The Mixtape of Hatred

"Yo, Baratwat," his boss, Hipster Brent, said, "Get off the machine, your shift is over."

"I can do whatever I want, Brent."

"Fuck off, Mate, if you dont get off I gotta pay you for overtime and I'm pretty sure I don't want that," he chuckled, "Now go home, or you're fired."

"Fine, see you tomorrow, boss-man."

"You too, Baratwat."

He laughed at the stupid nickname, he remember's the origin, it's his ex's fault, actually, if they didn't end it in the middle of his shift, his boss wouldn't start calling him 'Baratwat'.

Jack Barakat, 24, coffee master of 'Espresso or Nothing', casual cassanova. Has four exes if an ex-best friend counts as an ex. Usually the dumped, rarely the dumper, has wild hair.

Jack is a nice guy, really, he just doesn't acknoweledge people's feelings. He managed to let his relationship turn downhill because according to his ex, he was neglectful and he doesn't seem like he gives a shit about her. Their breakup was bad enough that he almost lost his job, luckily, Hipster Brent was the son of the owner so he got his ass saved.

He walked towards his locker to change from his uniform. Despite the fact that the coffee shop has the coolest logo and the coolest name, he didn't fancy wearing it all day. He grabbed his clothes, took off his shirt and tossed on his ZEDD hoodie (he got it ironically, he swears) on before realizing that there was a package with his name on it lying on the floor.

He examined it, only to see his name with no return address what-so-ever.

"The mixtape of hatred?" he chuckled, "sounds stupid, but hey, someone put their heart and soul into this so I'm giving you a shot, Mr. Pessimist."

When he finished changing, he said bye to Brent, hopped into his car and put the mixtape in.

"Welcome to the mixtape of hatred, we do not recommend to listen to this mixtape while driving, as it will cause you to fall asleep. If you are driving, please take out this CD and listen to it at home."

Jack groaned, he expected some hateful punk music to fill in the silent air, not some recorded message.



When he arrived home, curiosity got him and decided to put the stupid CD in. He lied on his bed, waiting for the recoded message to fill the air again, but this time, it didn't.

"Jack Barakat, you have recieved the Mixtape of Hatred, congratulations. Please enjoy the choice of songs the mixer has chosen for you. Have a nice evening!"

Strange, he swore the recorded message didn't sound like that in his car. In fact, when he looked at the CD case, he saw no track listing.

Weird.

Suddenly, the roaring sound of an applause came up on his stereo.

"This song is a cover, sadly," that voice, it sounds so familiar, "Well, not really, I wrote this song for the band I was in back in high school with a couple of my friends, according to them this song is too mushy. I strongly disagree with them, this song is not mushy."

The guy giggled, What a girl

"This song is called 'A Daydream Away'."

He heard the melodious sound of a velvetly soft voice and a perfectly tuned guitar, with the audiences being toned down by the sound people, it sounded so raw, so beautiful, so perfect.

Sadly, Jack couldn't make it to the second chorus. But he could hear the lyrics loud an clear.



The man found himself in a world where everything is white. He's all alone in solitude, wondering why he's here in the first place.

Then, he saw a familiar girl with familiar blonde locks and dark chocolate eyes. He recognized her as Verity, his most recent ex-girlfriend.

He's confused, Verity moved all the way to Florida, there's no way she'd be here, talking some sense into him or beating him up for the apparent end of their relationship.

"Hello, assface," she greeted, "I see you got the mixtape of hatred."

Huh? "How did you-"

"I made it, of course I'd know, God, you're such an idiot. Thank god we're not together anymore."

Jack laughed humorlessly, "What do you want, Ver?"

"Dude, chill, I don't want us to get back together," she said, "I want you to see something."

"'See something'? Verity, I don't wanna see anything, I wanna go-"

His surroundings turned into his early teenaged year's bedroom, complete with his band posters, magazines scattered everywhere and-Wait, is that him still curled up in his bed?!

What the fuck is going on here?!

"Rise and shine, Baratwat!"

That voice again, he thought, he looked over to his door, only to see a kind -of-tall-for-a-seventeen-year old boy with unatturally dark brown hair tucked into a grey beanie. His fashion taste was disasterous, but that's what looked cool in his high school years, so he let it slide, but when he jumped onto his bed and started giggling while disturbing his younger self from his slumber, he realized that this boy was probably very close to him when he was younger.

"Go away, 'Lex," his younger self mumbled, "I'm trying to sleep, here."

"But we have school and I don't want us to be late! C'mon!"

"Too early," he hid himself under his sheets, Jack looked at himself in awe, he was such a cute teen, he wondered why the girls didn't like him. Probably because of his awkward limbs.

'Lex' pulled off younger Jack's sheets, exposing him only in his boxers. The brunet blushed before stuttering a, "Your mom's waiting for us downstairs."



Jack woke up covered in a thin layer of sweat. What a weird dream.

"Thanks for listening, guys, my name is Alex Gaskarth, and thank you for coming out tonight."

Alex Gaskarth?

He ran towards the living room, grabbed his yearbook and looked for his name.

When he found it, he saw the blushing boy from his dream last night, with "You're just a daydream away, I wouldn't know what to say if I had you." written underneath.

He walked back to his room, his palm on his forehead, massaging it out of confusion. What's happening to him?"

He looked at the CD case and took out the cover, which was an empty booklet when he examined it before he put the CD in. The words 'A Daydream Away' appeared on the Track listings with something written underneath it.

"I used to be so important to you, what happened to us, Jack?"